Meeting in the Band Room
by Ellen Elizabeth
Summary: Ephram finds escape from his anger in the school band room. While he is there, he is met with a friend in need. *complete* constructive criticism welcome.


A/N: This is the revised version. Thanks so much for the reviewers' constructive criticism. I had each of the paragraphs indented and I did not realize that fanfiction.net couldn't read indents. So, I have fixed the paragraphs and a bit of grammar which I missed, and I thank you all for your help.  
  
"Stupid counselor," Ephram thought angrily as he walked swiftly down the deserted halls. "Saturday. Stupid, Saturday."  
  
Ephram's guidance counselor had called him in to talk about "social problems." So, other people had noticed he was a reject. Well, they didn't have to call him in on a Saturday to tell him that. He was inwardly fuming.  
  
He flew down the halls, his face hot with embarrassment and anger. He saw no one and was glad for he knew he was blushing deeply. "Stupid." Suddenly he stopped. He was standing in front of the band room. He did not take band; he had done enough to his reputation as is, but there was a piano at the right side of the room. He looked about, aware of snooping janitors and other weekend horrors, then entered the room.  
  
He walked slowly, almost hauntingly towards the piano. He hesitated only a second before placing his long, slender fingers on the cool keys. In a moment, the keys were a little sweaty from his hands. He played a D then an A. then an F natural. In a moment, he was playing a slow, yet complicated piece. It was in minor and was sad and beautiful. It was warm and quiet. Sort of like coffee or chocolate. Ephram leaned in and out of the keys to give the song feeling, life. The damper pedal smeared the notes like watercolors and added to the effect. He played a few of the notes accented and clear in the smear of notes. His fingers flew.  
  
He heard a sniff from behind him and stopped playing abruptly.  
  
There, sitting in a band chair, was Amy Abbott.  
  
Her hair, so usually full of life, was now limp. Her lips were cracked and her eyes were red and puffy. Her face was blotched and she choked out, "Please don't stop!"  
  
"What the hell?"  
  
"Don't stop playing."  
  
"Amy?"  
  
She broke down again. Sobbing into her hands, leaning over to her knees. She gained control but did not remove her hands from her face.  
  
Ephram stared. Colin had died during his surgery. He had barely seen Amy since then. He understood that she would have missed some school, and that she would mistake Colin's death to be the fault of his father, who had conducted the surgery, and then to Ephram. But he wasn't ready for her to break down in front of her.  
  
"S-sorry. I- Um.sorry."  
  
"It's cool, I guess. Colin?" Ephram ventured cautiously.  
  
"Yeah," Amy squeaked. "What you played was.good."  
  
"Yeah, thanks." Ephram was still caught off guard by Amy's entrance.  
  
"What are you doing here on a Saturday?"  
  
"I-It was.ummm.I was-It's a long story," Ephram was embarrassed once again and he could feel the heat rising in his neck. "I might ask the same of you?"  
  
"Oh, you know.wandering."  
  
Ephram nodded though he did not know what she was talking about. "Well, I've probably got to go now."  
  
"I'll walk you back," Amy almost commanded. He was surprised. He had expected her naturally to hate him for his father's failure on the surgery. The fact that she was insisting on walking him home was unnerving. "Oh, okay." ***  
  
A half-hour later they were standing in front of Amy's house. The walk had been mostly in silence, each was thinking separate thoughts. Once, Ephram looked over and saw tears running silently down Amy's cheeks.  
  
She stood on her steps and pressed her cold hands to her face and sniffed.  
  
"Well, bye, then," Ephram said awkwardly and turned to go. He could see Bright's face in the window glaring at them. Bright hadn't come to school at all. From what kids were saying, he had locked himself in his room after the funeral and hadn't come out yet. His meals were being brought to his bedroom door by his mother each day.  
  
"Wait, Ephram." He absolutely loved how she said his name. Not Eh-vrum like everyone else. More like Eff-rum. "Wait, Ephram. Tell your dad to quit beating himself up. Okay? Tell him, that it wasn't his fault. That we all believe that it wasn't his fault."  
  
He looked at Amy, her face contorted with misery, and thought of his father who he claimed to hate, and who risked so much for this one boy. "I will." 


End file.
